


Interruptions (or: somewhere God is laughing)

by The_Readers_Muse



Series: A Fine(r) Art [4]
Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anthony just wants his port to stop disappearing, Art, Benedict is the local art hoe, Drama & Romance, Eloise is a hundred percent that bitch, F/M, Family, Gen, Period Typical Attitudes, The clue bus could mow down the entire household at this point tbh., Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, how many Bridgertons does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: "Art is often a reflection of the heart. What moves us."
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Series: A Fine(r) Art [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122908
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127





	Interruptions (or: somewhere God is laughing)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Bridgerton" or any of the show's characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: Part four of the "A Fine(r) Art" series. Please read "Every Aphrodite is valid (just ask Zeuxis)", "Gulosity (in all things)" & "Aisthētḗs (or in other words: you're my aesthetic, baby)" first – in that order.
> 
> Warnings: family, drama, romance, romantic tension, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, angst, art, Eloise is 100% that bitch, Benedict is the local art hoe, Anthony just wants his port to stop disappearing, how many Bridgertons does it take to screw in a light bulb? The clue bus could mow down the entire household at this point tbh.

Her shoulders were set in a firm line as she made her way towards the drawing room. The others had finally gone to bed, and she had a mystery on her hands.

She'd been determined to unravel it herself. But after some setbacks, was forced to admit she needed help. Colin was being childish, locking himself away in his rooms. She wasn't sure why mama indulged him by sending his dinner up the last few days. He'd been well when she brought Penelope to see the painting. There had been a ruddy tint to his cheeks and everything. Surely it was a sign of good health?

She asked about the painting during dinner, but mama repeated what she already knew. It had been a gift from Lady Greenwood, of Bath. Someone Colin had met during his travels. There had been some talk of encouraging a match with one of her granddaughters. Colin had been disinterested, but he and the Lady had parted as friends. The only new piece of information came when mama mentioned the woman and her brood were coming to call in the summer.

Well, she wasn't content to wait that long.

She wanted to know why it had been sent to him.

Why Colin, who was uninterested in art at every level, was so taken by it.

She'd knocked on his door that evening to ask and again been refused.

He actually seemed quite cross with her, if his tone was to be believed.

_Unbelievable._

She only had questions.

It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong, after all.

"Have you seen our brother this evening?" she opened, striding into the drawing room. Side-eying the way Anthony and Benedict's conversation suddenly stopped.

She blinked, curious. Then tripped right into suspicion. Perhaps she should have listened at the door before entering. Her brothers were always speaking of interesting things when they believed themselves alone.

"Colin, I presume?" Anthony asked, knuckling his glass of port a bit farther away on the desk. As if she were mama come to scold him.

She might have laughed if it wouldn't have revealed her secret. She stole a measure from the decanter regularly, with no one the wiser. At this point it was likely the servants believed her brother to be quite the lush.  
"Who else," she sighed instead, flopping on the chaise by the fire. "He's been acting strange since that painting arrived."

Benedict frowned, nearly making her feral when he spoke.

"What painting?"

_Really!?_

"How could you not know!" she shot back, rolling her eyes. Tossing a beaded pillow at him in disgust. "Even the servants are gossiping about it!"

Anthony leaned back in his chair, grinning. Clearly enjoying the show.

"Ah, you were not at dinner tonight, Ben. It seems our brother has acquired a painting during his travels. Eloise is curious about it."

Benedict sent her a look, like he expected to be let in on a joke. Neatly sending the pillow back towards the unoccupied half of the chaise. Refusing to give her the fight she wanted.

Pity. She was in the mood to do more pillow-throwing.

"Don't look at me," she retorted, tugging at the hem of her dress. "I know nothing more than what everyone knows. The mysterious Lady Greenwood sent it to him after he met her in Bath. And now he's obsessed with it. It's maddening!"

"So sour," Benedict teased, swallowing the last of his drink. Setting the glass on the mantle.

"Colin has no interest art galleries, let alone becoming the owner of a piece. When have you known him to care? _Exactly!_ So why is he so taken by this painting? Hmm?" she demanded, deliberately standing between the desk and the door as Benedict looked ready to flee. "Why would a lady who is more a stranger than a friend send him something so valuable? And then there was how he acted when I brought Penelope to see it..."

Both Anthony and Benedict blinked as one, before-

"You brought Miss Featherington to his rooms? What- no, Eloise...he wasn't at home, surely?"

"It hardly matters," she interrupted, waving it off like it was of little consequence. Because it was. There were far more interesting things to discuss. "Have you even seen it?"

Both her brothers' heads came up in unison.

And just like that, she had their full attention.

* * *

"There is a beauty in her indulgence," Benedict offered, as the three of them peered at the gold-trimmed canvas. "She is content, self-assured. Admirable traits I think."

She leaned back on her heels, half-in and half-out of the room. The unofficial look-out in case Colin returned from god knows where unexpectedly. It felt so much like old times - before papa died - that it nearly made her sick. Back when things had seemed simpler. _Better_.

"And beautiful," she shot back, hackles up until her brother nodded. Mirroring her truth. "It reminded me of- well, I thought Penelope would like it and I was right."

She decided to keep the identity of the person it reminded her of to herself. Unwilling to share such an intimate reflection of her dear friend. If they couldn't see the likeness, they were double the fools for it.

Anthony was still looking at it, head cocked, before he shrugged in loose agreement.

"It's pleasant enough, but I have seen many like it in the London gallery. And elsewhere. I wonder what he sees in it?"

A creak of floorboard further down the hall made her jump. Successfully hiding the lapse by leaning back into the room. Willing her heartbeat to calm when the sound proved to be nothing.

"Art is often a reflection of the heart, Benedict murmured, stepping closer to the canvas. One hand coming up, as if to touch, before dropping down again. "What moves us."

She considered it. Turning the idea over in her mind. For some reason she flashed back to the moment she left the room to see to mama. The way Colin had looked at-

_"Art is often a reflection of the heart. What moves us."_

So what did that say about Colin?

Something tickled, flirting just beyond her reach. She frowned, looking from the painting, to Benedict, then to the very spot she'd passed between Colin and Penelope days before. Feeling like she was so close to understanding what connected it all together, and-

"Do we know much of it's origins?" Anthony asked, stepping closer as if to look for a marker's mark.

The feeling faded as she focused on the question.

But later, when she was alone, she'd feel that tickle again.

* * *

"Well, this settles it. It's long past time we introduced him to the-"

She allowed them to escort her to bed before following them back to the study unnoticed. Listening closely. Determined to know what they'd been discussing before she interrupted them.

"-necessary pleasures."

She frowned, only able to glean fragments as the screech of a chair moving across the floor masked the words.

"He will be better off for it, you know it," Anthony continued. The clink of the decanter off-set by the sound of a chair moving forward. Leaving her to imagine he was pouring another finger of port.

"But he's refused to go, even with me. He's quite determined," Benedict replied, sighing loudly. "You remember how he reacted last time."

"-determined to be difficult," Anthony sighed, frustration chief in his tone. "I don't know why. It wasn't this difficult to introduce you into _that_ society. You were quite eager when the time came. He should be thanking us. The entanglements with the Thompson girl alone- we could have kept the family name out of that mess entirely."

She frowned into the door jam. _What society?_ _What were they talking about?_

"I believe she is Mrs. Crane now," Benedict corrected. "But I agree. It is high time he deals with his frustrations. _Safely._ For all our sakes. God knows why he's focused on that painting."

"You know why," Anthony chuckled. "For those of our station, such establishments are a necessity. He can get himself sorted. And the- it- …will discourage unsuitable matches until he is serious about settling down. Mrs. Crane was a symptom; I am sure of it."

"Indeed," Benedict hummed, amused. "And if that is his type, I can think of a few buxom ladies who would be more than happy to-"

The whinge of a floorboard had her scurrying away before she could hear more. Only just missing one of the servants as they crossed the hall behind her. Forcing her dart into the sitting room until the coast was clear, then dash up the stairs to her room as the door creaked. A clear sign that her brothers were about to exit the study.

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Join me on my morning ride?" Anthony offered, grunting through an audible stretch. "We'll have to be a united front if we are to convince him."

Benedict made an assenting sound. But she was too far away to hear anything else.

She closed the door behind her with a soft snap, thinking about what she'd heard.

Clearly they were trying to recruit Colin into entertaining some sort of… less savory company?

She didn't understand what it had to do with Marina or their family, however.

Or why Colin might be in need of said company.

_Perhaps Penelope could help?_

Admittedly, she was uneducated when it came to the habits of men.

Especially those who were not her brothers.

Penelope seemed more worldly, especially since she'd been out in society a year longer.

Truthfully, even what her brothers did outside the home was a mystery to her.

She huffed a frustrated breath as she wriggled out of her dress and snatched her sleeping shift from where it had been laid out on the chair. Thoughtlessly creasing the immaculately starched collar as she jammed it over her head and tossed herself into the frigid sheets.

Why was it that when she thought she was closing in on one answer, an entirely new line of questioning popped up?


End file.
